


Han Solo Has A Stupid Idea

by rosestone



Series: Solo [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Force-Sensitive Han Solo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosestone/pseuds/rosestone
Summary: Being a Force-Sensitive smuggler on the run from any law enforcement that might happen to be in the area is an expensive job.  Unfortunately, Han Solo doesn't have any credits.  Fortunately, someone's willing to give him quite a lot of credits to take some cargo from Kashyyyk to a drop-point in the middle of nowhere.  Unfortunately, Kashyyyk isn't a very friendly place for someone who's Force-Sensitive.Fortunately...Han will definitely think of an upside to this.  Eventually.





	1. Chapter 1

The moment he stepped onto Kashyyyk’s surface, Han slammed his shields down reflexively.  Qui-Gon vanished like he’d never existed; so did the heavy miasma of fury-misery-despair carried by the Force.

It wasn’t a new feeling.  There was always an undercurrent of it wherever he went, mixed in with the other emotions of the people around him; Han figured it was a part of the natural order, that sometimes people just weren’t happy.  And he’d noticed before that it was often stronger on planets where the Empire’s grip was especially cruel.  But he’d never been to a slave planet before, Han realised, and that - that was the difference here.  He could see a chain-gang of Wookiees in the distance unloading a freighter, watched over by overseers armed with electrostaffs, and jerked his eyes away.  There wasn't anything he could do for them.  There wasn't anything anyone could do, short of the Empire falling.  His best option was to pull off the job he'd come to do and get out before he could give in to the temptation to do something stupid.  That wouldn't help anyone.

He cast one longing glance back at his ship - as much as he'd been looking forward to getting out and stretching his legs on Kashyyyk's surface, jumping back in was starting to tempt him as well - and set off towards the customs building, hands buried in his pockets.  Convince the portmaster to let him through, find his contact and get the merchandise, and get the hell offplanet.  It'd be easy.  And lucrative.

Another line of Wookiees passed, silent but for the rattling of their chains and the pad of their feet on the duracrete.  He stared fixedly at the ground.

Do the job.  Get paid.  Get out.  That was all he had to do.

Force, taking this contract was possibly the stupidest idea he'd ever had.

 

The portmaster had been happy enough to accept Han's story - that he'd come to meet a friend who lived in the city - once he'd found the Cho-Mar tucked into his papers.  That dealt with, he strolled out towards the town, keeping his eyes open for the cantina.  It wasn't much of a town - the bulk of it consisted of quarters for the overseers and Wookiees, with a few factories on the far edge and some stores to serve the Imperials and anyone who decided to visit.  Still, it was the closest thing Kashyyyk had to a city; before the Empire, Han was pretty sure the Wookiees had lived in villages scattered through the canopy layers of the wroshyr trees.  Now, there were no trees anywhere in sight, unless you counted the distant green fuzz on the horizon.  They hadn't even bothered trying to replant them as they clear-cut.

It must have been a wonderful place to visit once for the Jedi.  Plants had a presence in the Force every bit as much as sentient beings had, if not as strong; the sensation of those ancient trees, left to grow for millennia, must have been like nothing else.  He glanced around, taking in klicks of duracrete in every direction, and hunched his shoulders.  Hopefully Qui-Gon had left as soon as they'd landed.  He didn't have to be here, and in his state Han was pretty sure he'd be even more badly affected by the devastation and misery than he was.  One of them, at least, should get to avoid this.

A faded poster of a beer bottle in the window of a nearby building caught his attention.  Peering through the dusty glass, he saw a bar.  Probably the cantina he was looking for, then - he couldn't imagine there were many in such a small town.

He slipped through the doorway, looking around.  It was nearly empty this early in the day - most of its regular customers were probably still out watching the Wookiees, he supposed - but there were a few people tucked into the corners, and a human behind the bar.  He walked over slowly, doing his best to scope out the others in the room.  He'd been told to meet his contact here as soon as he arrived, so one of them had to be the mysterious Aika.

He ruled out the man wearing civilian clothing and a pair of gleaming officer's boots immediately.  Corruption was pretty common in the Imperial Army, so there were a lot of soldiers running various scams, but he didn't think they'd be stupid enough to do it in plain sight like this, or to deal with a stranger.  That was the sort of thing that was best run by people you were sure wouldn't betray you; the higher-ups were willing to ignore an astounding amount of graft, but if they were forced to take notice, the punishments they doled out were vicious.

The two men sitting a few tables away, heads bent together, weren't wearing any obvious pieces of uniform, but Han suspected they were soldiers anyway.  Something about their posture, maybe, or the way they'd both flicked cautious glances at him as he entered.  And if one soldier was unlikely to be his contact, he couldn't see any reason that two of them might be.

There was a female Twi'lek sitting in a corner... no.  She was swathed in a shapeless robe, hunched over her drink as though expecting someone to take it from her, a fearful posture he wouldn't expect from someone running a smuggling ring under the Empire's nose.  He couldn't blame her, he supposed; if she was in a bar during off-hours, she was doing a hell of a lot better than most of the Twi'leks he'd run into after the Republic fell.  Most of them had been press-ganged into slavery or taxed into abject poverty back on Ryloth, unable to leave the planet without a sponsor to pay their way.  And that was probably the only reason she was on Kashyyyk; some officer had gotten tired of being surrounded by Wookiees and decided to import an entertainer.  No wonder she looked like she didn't want to be disturbed.

The bartender was the only other person in the room.  It was possible that his contact wasn't here yet - it wasn't long after noon, Kashyyyk time, and most of the local workforce was probably still on the job.  Though... maybe it might actually be the bartender?  It'd be a great cover, after all.  Everybody talked to him, and you could probably get a hell of a lot of information across pretending to be blind drunk.  And even if he wasn't Han's contact, he might recognise the name.  Almost everyone here would be a local, after all.

Mind made up, he strolled over to the bar, hands in pockets.  The man's eyes lit up as he approached - a man looking for a sale, or realising he was about to meet the smuggler he'd hired?  Well, it'd be easy enough to find out.

"Afternoon."

The man nodded a greeting.  "Afternoon.  What're you having?"

He shrugged.  "Whatever's cheap."

The bartender scrutinised him for a moment, then smirked.  "If you say so."  He filled a glass and held it out.  The liquid inside was dark and smelled _very_ strongly of alcohol; Han suspected he'd regret letting him choose.

He slid some credits over the polished wood - enough for the drink, plus a generous tip - and leaned in as the bartender's eyes narrowed.  "Maybe you could help me out with something else."

"Maybe."  The credits vanished beneath the counter.  "Depends on what exactly that is."

"I'm looking for someone.  Friend of a friend, sort of thing.  Name of Aika."

The bartender gestured to the robed Twi'lek in the corner.  "Hope she's expecting you.  She doesn't much like being annoyed in her time off."

Han tried not to look too surprised, eyes flicking towards the defensive-looking woman.  He sure as hell wouldn't have chanced smuggling if he were a Twi'lek, not considering how badly the Empire treated non-human criminals - but, well.  Maybe if you'd already lost everything, risking this much didn't seem like so much of a big deal.

He crossed over to the booth where she sat.  Her shoulders tensed as she watched him, but she didn't make any move to chase him away.

"Can I sit?" he asked, voice soft.  "The name's Solo."

Her eyes widened, and the tension left her frame.  "I - yes.  You're earlier than I expected."

"Trip out was quicker than I thought it'd be.  Is that a problem?"  He settled himself opposite her, putting the dubious alcohol on the table.

She flicked him a glance from beneath lowered brows.  "I don't have the cargo yet."

"Oh."  He sat back, rubbing his mouth.  "Yeah, that's a problem.  There's only so long I can stay before the portmaster starts getting suspicious.  Not too many reasons to come to Kashyyyk, y'know.  Is there any way we can speed it up?"

"Not unless you can make the Stormtrooper training camp move on faster."

"I.  What?"

"The Empire's put in a training camp on what used to be forest.  Might as well use the land, right?  The goods are hidden near the camp, and they're landing troops there right now.  It's another tenday until they clear out to do manoeuvres."

"Why the _kriff_ would you keep it there?"

She raised her brows.  "Who'd look?  After all, it's about the riskiest place you could break into on Kashyyyk, other than the main Imperial base.  They've never even bothered searching there."

Han sighed.  "Okay, that's fair.  But you really don't have any way in sooner than that?  There's no way I can stay for that long, not without attracting too much attention."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but they don't let Twi'lek into the army.  I can't sneak in by pretending to be a Stormtrooper, and as long as the ground troops are there they won't let non-military personnel on the grounds.  Now, _you_ \- you could probably manage it."  She gave him a deeply speculative look.

"Hey," Han said, raising his hands.  "I'm here to get whatever this is off-planet.  On-planet transport isn't part of my job."

"If it's in the base, you don't _have_ a job," she pointed out.  "Look, I'll call the guys you're meeting at the other end, see if they can't slip a bonus your way.  I don't want to force you into anything.  But I don't have another way to get it out quickly.  This is going to help both of us, Solo."

"Ugh."  He rubbed his face.  "This isn't really just you, right?  You've got to have someone else helping you out.  They couldn't get in?"

"I'm not telling you anything about them," she said, eyes narrowed.

"And I'm not asking you to.  Just..."

She sighed.  "No.  None of us would be able to get in.  Frankly, I'd rather do that than trust a stranger, even one we've heard always keeps his word, but it's not an option."

He slumped back in his seat, grimacing.  "How bad is it?  This isn't, I don't know, an Imperial Security training camp or something like that?"

"Kriff, no.  Just plain Stormtroopers, early enough that they haven't been split off into separate divisions yet.  You might get a clever one here and there who'll end up in the ISB eventually, but most of them are complete idiots who've never been off-planet before."

Han blinked.  "That doesn't exactly sound like the terror of the Empire I've heard about."

"Oh, they weed the stupid ones out," she said, shrugging.  "I suspect that's part of why there's a camp here - get a bunch of aspiring soldiers who've never been away from home before, stick them on a planet that's like nothing they've ever seen, get them to run a few manoeuvres in the forest, and see who washes out.  I'm willing to bet their next few training camps are in the most inhospitable locations the Empire's got a good hold on too."

"Probably, yeah."  He eyed her.  "Look, I'm not saying I'll do it.  I'll think about it, that's all.  Can I get a look at the camp?  Talk to someone who knows what kind of schedules they run on, that sort of thing?  It's got to actually be doable - I'm not going on a suicide run."

She nodded firmly.  "That's easy enough.  I can show you the camp - only from a distance, they don't like it if we get too close, but there's a good secluded vantage point not too far away - but I'll need to talk to some of my contacts for the schedule.  I don't know that much about what goes on when they've got Stormtroopers around, since I really only go inside in between training sessions."

"That's fine.  As long as we can do it soonest."  He picked up his glass, tossing the alcohol back, and coughed it straight back up.  It _burned_.

"You do know that's Wookiee liquor, right?" she said, smirking.

"Augh," he managed.

She shook her head.  "Come on, Solo.  Let's go take a look at the camp."

 

The problem was, Han couldn't really come up with a good reason not to do it.

Every one of Aika's compatriots - those that he'd met, anyway, and Han was willing to bet there were a lot more of them - had a good reason to stop them from going undercover.  They were non-human, or human but outside the strict body-size requirements the Stormtroopers had, or were too closely watched to be able to get away from their jobs for long enough to do the job.  But between them they had a decent idea of the layout of the place and the Stormtroopers' schedules, and the best way for him to make it in and out of the base without being caught.

And the money, well.  It'd been good before.  Now that Aika'd talked her contact into giving him a bonus... he'd have to be stupid _not_ to do it, really.  The thought of all the things he could do with that many credits was staggering.

All he had to do was pretend to be a Stormtrooper convincingly for long enough to get into the base, get the goods, get out again, and fly off to the rendezvous without getting searched.  Simple.

Money or no money, taking this contract was still possibly the stupidest idea he'd ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

The plan was easy enough.

Ride out to the base on the back of Aika's ancient, almost-certainly-stolen speeder.  Sneak in, dressed in a set of Stormtrooper armour she'd found somewhere.  Pretend to be one of the cadets, but don't go into too much detail; as long as all the Stormtroopers thought he was from someone else's troop, but didn't know specifically _where_ he was supposed to be from, he could pass as just another white-helmeted trainee.  Don't draw too much attention; the facility didn't have too much security, since nobody would really expect someone to want to break into a low-value target like that, but if he looked like he didn't belong they might start to wonder.  Sneak around at night, find the goods, and get them out.

Easy.  Right.

Getting in wasn't difficult, at least; the wall around the facility wasn't electrified, so all he had to do was climb over and catch the armour Aika tossed him.  The building was still fairly quiet - it wasn't much past dawn - but there were a few troopers exercising in an inner courtyard, so he did his best to pretend to be another ambitious young soldier getting an early start on the day's training, breathing a sigh of relief as he did.  The information Aika'd given him said that they locked the doors overnight, which ruled out his immediate suggestion of "Couldn't I just break in and find it?"  If she'd been wrong about the early-morning training, he would've been trapped outside until someone noticed him and came to ask what the kriff he was doing.  It wouldn't have been a good start to the job, that was for sure.

More trainees filtered out to join them as the sun rose higher, until eventually a few black-uniformed officers made their way out and began directing the exercises.  Han was devoutly glad he'd come earlier; it was a lot easier to pass as one of them when he'd already gotten a decent idea of the exercises they were expected to be doing.

After that was breakfast - slop he had a hard time not choking on, or comparing unfavourably to the boring but infinitely better-cooked gruel the Order had usually served - followed by a lecture.  He bit his tongue and did his best to stay awake for the droning recitation of hazards they might expect to encounter on duty, with a special focus on dangerous "native species".  It was a little politer than the way the Empire usually referred to non-humans, but the inflection the lecturer put on the words left absolutely no doubt how he felt about them.

Trailing out of the hall with the rest of the trainees as they went to shooting practice - which, based on the chatter around him, Han was pretty sure might be the first or second time some of them had held any kind of weapon - he sighed behind his helmet.  He'd expected to spend the day on the verge of being caught, constantly terrified he'd be dragged away and arrested.  He hadn't expected _boredom_.

At this point, he was pretty sure that was the most likely thing to get him caught.  No true believer would find any of this boring, and anyone who'd come because they needed a steady job wouldn't dare show it.

Well, he didn't have to hold out for long.  Just until the end of the day.

Lunch was more slop, but this time he had to listen to cadets chattering about how _exciting_ it all was, they'd never even left their planets before and now here they were!  Becoming Stormtroopers!  Doing something important, something for the Empire, something infinitely more interesting than sitting at home on the family farm!  Han bit his tongue and stared at his plate, trying not to think about how young they all sounded.  Barely old enough to sign the paperwork, if the Imperials even bothered to check.  Probably raised on propaganda.

But they'd made the choice to sign up.  Ill-informed or not, they were still his enemies.  He had to remember that.

Kriff, this was awful.

More guns after lunch.  He stood and fired, eyes fixed on the target, reminding himself he got to leave soon.  He only had to keep going until they'd all gone to bed for the night.  Hardly any time at all, really.  He'd gotten through most of the day already.

Another lecture, on Kashyyyk's terrain and native hazards, along with an announcement that they'd be doing manoeuvres somewhere on the planet in the next few days.  The cadets whispered excitedly to each other at the idea.  He did his best to pretend he was interested.

Just a little longer.

And then they were doing hand-to-hand combat out in the courtyard, and suddenly the big concern wasn't boredom.  He'd learned this once, moving slowly under the guidance of a senior Padawan, lip caught between his teeth as he tried his best to show what a good Initiate he was to any passing master.  He hadn't actually used any of the moves in - how long? - but it was all still there, half-remembered movements ready to trip him up as he copied the cadets.  There probably wasn't anyone here who'd recognise the Jedi movements if he slipped up, but even if they didn't, he couldn't afford to look too competent.  That would attract attention, and _that_ was the last thing he needed.  Far better to be forgettable, and slip out of the base as easily as he'd slipped in.  Of course, if he was completely awful, they might want to shunt him off into a different sort of training, or maybe remedial hand-to-hand, and then someone might try to find his non-existent file, which would... also be bad.

Kriff.

He just had to keep going.  Be average until they finished fighting.  Be boring, but not obviously bored, for another few hours.  He was so close to being able to leave.

Finally they were dismissed to dinner - surprise!  More slop! - and a few hours of private study before lights-out.  Han hunched over a procedural manual, flipping pages every so often to try to make it look like he was actually doing something.  Now that he was so close to finally being able to grab the stuff and go, time seemed to be stretching out even worse than it had been before.  Every time he glanced up at the clock on the wall, it seemed to have moved even less than the last time he'd looked.

But eventually an officer leaned in to tell them to go to their dormitories.  They stood, more or less en masse, and filed out.

Han didn't have a dormitory, of course.  He glanced around as they moved, eyes flicking from door to door, until he saw a bathroom.  He ducked inside, locked a cubicle behind himself, and sat down to wait.  The officers who ran this place would probably do rounds to make sure nobody was out of place, but why would they bother checking the bathrooms if they could see everyone was in their dormitories?

Now there was nothing to do but wait.  Again.  At least this time nobody was watching him, and he didn't have to worry about making a stupid mistake.  He sat and focused on his breathing, in and out.  He couldn't meditate properly, not when he was still keeping the Force out by sheer will, but the familiar pattern still calmed him and helped the time to slip by.

The lights in the room dimmed.  He slipped out of the cubicle and pressed his ear to the door.  There was no sound out there, and no light shining in from the corridor.

Finally.

He fumbled under the armour and pulled out a scrap of flimsi Aika'd given him earlier.  One of her friends had, at some point, painstakingly mapped out the location of every security vidfeed in the building.  The room he needed to get to had a little star on it; he squinted down at the map, trying to find the dormitories.  Ah, there, on the far side from the room he wanted.  Which meant he was... _there_ , most likely.  Which unfortunately meant that he'd need to go through a few major corridors to get to his destination.  Whoever'd drawn this had helpfully marked out the area the vidfeeds covered.  As long as he was careful, and didn't go through the corridor that came directly off the front entrance, he ought to be able to squeeze around them all right.

He blew out a breath, slid the flimsi back underneath his armour - if he got caught, it wasn't going to be with something that looked like contraband in his hand - and opened the door.

Nothing.  Just a dark, empty corridor, and the soft hum of the vidfeed by the next door along.  It was a little unsettling, compared to the lively bustle he'd there seen earlier.  Which was exactly what he needed, so there wasn't any point in wasting time worrying.

Time to go.

 

Han slipped through the final door, looked up, and stopped.  His eyes widened.

When Aika'd said they'd hidden the goods in the facility, he'd assumed they'd be in a basement, or behind a false wall.  He'd thought the list of codes she'd given him were just a safety measure.  No point in coming back with the wrong stuff, after all.

But no.  Here he was in the room she'd told him to find.  No basement entrances, no cleverly hidden switches: just stacks and stacks of crates, each with a stencilled-on alphanumeric code.  Hidden in plain sight among the rest of the base's goods.

He hurried through the room, wending his way between the stacks as he glanced between the list and the boxes.  Only the ones near the door looked like they'd been touched recently, everything else coated in a thin layer of dust, but despite that he couldn't help but worry.  It'd be just about typical if it turned out they'd taken those specific boxes for resupply...  But just as he was really starting to worry, a code caught his eye, and he let out a great sigh of relief.  There they all were, clustered in a pile in the far corner, and - yes, by the weight, still unopened.  It wasn't heavy enough for it to be impossible for him to carry them, though he didn't think he could manage more than one at a run.  Well, it'd been quiet enough so far.  It'd be easy to get all six out to the garage without being caught.

He pulled the little map-flimsi out of his pocket again and studied it.  It was an easy run from here to the garage - probably why they'd picked this storeroom.  Three back corridors without any security at all, one vidfeed with a blind spot just wide enough for him to squeeze through while still carrying the crate, and the garage door they'd somehow gotten the lock-code to.  He couldn't actually drive the speeder he was planning to steal out, since they didn't have the code to the exterior door, but he was hoping something would present itself once he got there.  A manual lock, maybe, or something simple he could break through.  If worst came to worst he could probably walk the speeder through the building and out one of the _other_ exterior doors he had the code to, but he was hoping it wouldn't.  Doing that was just asking for trouble.

Well, he'd better get started.  He hefted the first box, sighing, and started towards the door.

The facility was as eerily silent as it had been earlier.  It shouldn't really have surprised him - Stormtroopers weren't picked for their initiative and tendency to sneak out after hours - but it discomfited him anyway.  He expected to be found at any moment, and even though he had a cover story prepared - _what, this?  I'm just taking some supplies around for the Captain, nothing to worry about_... his shoulders were still locked tight with tension.  Kriff it, this was why he didn't do planetside smuggling.  Running blockades wasn't _nearly_ as nervewracking as this was.

But, despite his fears, he made it to the garage without seeing anyone.  In amongst the shinier officers' models and a few speeders with guns mounted for training purposes he found a slightly older open-topped one - not so ancient that he'd be worried it wouldn't do the job, but far less likely to be missed than the others, and with a nice large back seat for him to load the boxes onto.  He set the first crate down with a grunt and turned back towards the main building.  Hopefully the next few wouldn't take as long, now that he knew where he was going.

One uneventful trip.  Two.  Three, and the only excitement he'd had was figuring out how to open the door to the garage without putting the crate down first.  Four.  The fifth and final trip, and surely if he was going to be caught at all it'd be now, if there was anything he knew it was that things went worst when it seemed like everything was okay -

And then he was wedging the last crate between the speeder's door and the other five, and everything had, inexplicably enough, been fine.

Well.  If the Force was going to smile on him, he might as well take advantage of it.  Han did a last circuit of the speeder, making sure none of the crates would come loose if he had to stop suddenly, and then turned towards the small transparisteeled-off room in the corner.  If they had keys for the speeders - or the door - anywhere, it'd be there.  And once he had that, it'd be -

Had he closed the door to the storeroom?

He frowned, thinking back.  He hadn't bothered the first few times, since it'd was quiet and it'd be a hell of a lot faster if he didn't have to put the crate down every time; he'd bumped it with the edge of the crate instead, leaving it barely ajar.  To the casual eye, there wouldn't be anything wrong.  But he couldn't actually remember what he'd done this time.

It probably wouldn't be an issue.  It was pretty clear that hardly anyone used that storeroom, and he doubted anyone except cleaning droids used the corridors nearby.  The next person to pass by would probably just assume one of them had gone in to clean and not closed up after itself.  And that probably wouldn't happen for months.

_Probably_ wasn't a good word to use when you were committing a crime.

Kriff.

He turned back towards the main building, swearing mentally.  The sooner he got out of this place, the safer he'd be, and the less likely he'd be caught.  But leaving this would just be stupid.  Even more than this whole escapade had been in the first place.

He ducked around the vidfeed, hurried through the corridors, and - yes.  There it was, hanging open.  He hadn't even closed it far enough to hide it from casual passersby, for kriff's sake.  Scowling, he set his hand on the edge of the door, then paused.  His footprints in the dust inside weren't _too_ obvious, but...  He blew hard, stirring it up; it settled again, not quite covering the marks.  Good enough, considering how infrequently the room was used.  The same effort applied to the corridor outside wasn't nearly as effective, but at least it looked slightly less obviously grubby.

He closed the door firmly.  Right.  Back to the garage, so he could get the hell out of this place.  The sooner he left Kashyyyk, the better.  And he didn't plan on coming back any time soon, no matter how nice the bonus was.

Han shook his head as he hurried towards the garage.  Give him a nice quiet weapons run any day.  Kriff, he'd even take being shot at by Stormtroopers - at least then he didn't have to sneak around like this -

"What are you doing out of your quarters?"

He stopped cold.  Standing in front of him was an officer, expression coolly triumphant.

Kriff.  If he'd seen him with the goods - but no, he would've started with that question, wouldn't he?  He had to know Han was doing something he wasn't supposed to, but he didn't know what.  Which still didn't bode well - he'd heard stories about the Empire's interrogation techniques - but that probably wasn't something they'd bother with for a Stormtrooper in a non-secure facility, right?  Surely not.  That'd be overkill.  And there had to be some cadets who tried sneaking around.  They must be used to this.

A glinting shape on the officer's wrist caught his eye.  A com.  One of the fancy Imperial kinds, with all sorts of special options built in.  Like all-access keys.

Kriff.  This wasn't nearly as much of a disaster as he'd thought.  If he could get that wristcom, he could probably walk straight past every sealed door in this place.  No more worrying about how to get out of the garage.

As long as he didn't get dragged off and interrogated, anyway.

"Well?"

He cleared his throat, eyes fixed on the com.  "I, uh, I was looking for -"

"Trouble.  I thought so."  The officer turned on his heel, striding directly into the path of the security vidfeed Han had tried so hard to avoid.  He bit back a curse and followed.

Whatever was going to happen, it probably wouldn't be out here in the corridor.  Which was a good thing, he supposed; wherever they were going probably wouldn't have as many vidfeeds as it seemed to.  On the other hand, the further they walked, the more evidence he'd be leaving behind when someone noticed they were short a Stormtrooper.

Not that he could do anything about the situation.  No, his best bet here was to keep quiet until he had a chance to get the com.  Probably using the Force.  He hadn't used mind tricks much - he'd heard horror stories whispered from Initiate to Initiate in the creche about the damage an inexperienced Force user could do when manipulating minds, and it'd made him nervous about the idea - but, of all the people he might hurt with the Force, an Imperial officer was one of the ones he was least worried about.  The biggest risk there was that he'd do it wrong, by pushing too lightly and leaving the officer aware enough to call for help or by pushing too heavily and obviously incapacitating him.  Han needed him to take them somewhere out of sight, that was key.

Maybe he could influence the officer to take him somewhere quiet?  It wouldn't be too much of a disaster if he got that one wrong, after all, and the sooner they got out of sight -

He stopped abruptly, swiping his wristcom across a door, and pulled it open.  "In.  And pull your helmet off when I'm talking to you."

Han entered, flinching behind his helmet at the self-satisfied smirk on the officer's face.  Well, it wasn't like he shouldn't have expected something nasty from someone who'd chosen to work for the Empire, he supposed.  He pulled off the heavy helmet, taking a breath of fresh air, and hoped there weren't any vidfeeds in here.

The room was large and bare, not the office he'd expected.  Its most notable feature was a large pit at the far end, a heavy metal grille over the top.  Something was moving in the darkness beneath.

"Come along, come along."  He strode over to the pit.  "I'm giving you an early look at something you Stormtroopers will be working with in a few days.  It's a very valuable opportunity."

Han doubted that, but followed obediently.  He glanced up, trying to spot any vidfeeds.  Everything _looked_ clear.

"Do you know what this is, cadet?"

He glanced down into the pit as the officer flicked on a spotlight.  The thing he'd seen before flinched back from the light, arms flung up to cover its face.

"A Wookiee, sir."

"Well, I suppose you'd have to be rather stupid to miss that one, considering where we're stationed."  He folded his hands behind his back, smiling coldly.  "Wookiees are an important slave race for the Empire.  They're strong, resilient, capable of doing enormous amounts of work on poor rations, and quite frankly are too unintelligent for any moral society to leave them to their own devices.  They're not even capable of creating a city, for the Emperor's sake!  However, these same traits make them very dangerous when that unintelligence leads them into rebellion, even when they're properly restrained.  Wookiees are the creature most likely to harm those attempting to subdue them, so they make an excellent training tool.  If you can handle this, you can handle anything Imperial service throws at you."

"I see, sir."  The Wookiee had understood him, by the twitch in its shoulders when he declared it stupid, but made no other move.

"Ordinarily," he went on, "this task would be undertaken in groups, using some of the crowd-control weapons you'll be training with during this rotation.  However, considering that you clearly feel you're accomplished enough to sneak out past curfew for whatever entertainment you were seeking, I think you should be able to manage it alone.  Don't you?"

Han bit back a curse.  "Yes, sir."

His smile widened, and he pressed a button to the side of the pit.  The grille slid aside.  "Go on, then."

He moved closer to the pit, steps slow as his mind raced.  He couldn't risk getting too close to the captive Wookiee - Han was pretty sure that, considering what he'd been going through, he wouldn't waste any time if he got a chance to take it out on a Stormtrooper.  Now was the moment to try the Force - but would it work, when the officer was focusing so strongly on Han and the Wookiee?  He wasn't sure he'd be able to break through that concentration.

"Well?"

The Wookiee stared up at him.  A chain ran from the heavy shackles on his arms to the floor, stopping him from escaping.  There were half-healed wounds all over his body.  He was the thinnest Wookiee Han had ever seen; he was pretty sure that, without the fur, he'd be able to count his ribs.

" _Well?_ "

Han reached out to the Force.  It filled him in a rush, washing away the fatigue and the low-level grinding fury he'd felt all day, and he clenched his fists.

"What -"

His punch caught the officer across the jaw like a speeding freighter, helped along by the corona of Force along his knuckles.  He smirked as he fell, rubbing his hand, feeling the local Force - 

And the presence a few kilometres away, like a black hole in the Force bearing down on him.

Fuck.

He snapped his shields down, mentally cursing.  He'd known his shields were good, they _had_ to be good for him to survived this long, but it'd never occurred to him that he could be this kriffing close to an _Inquisitor_ and not _notice_ \- 

He jerked the helmet on - it'd keep his face away from the security vidfeeds, at least - and bent to grab the officer's wristcom.  Standing, he locked eyes with the Wookiee, and winced.

He couldn't do anything about slavery.  He'd known that, coming here.  Knew it every time he stepped onto one of the planets where the Empire's grip was especially tight.  One person couldn't wage a war like that, not if he wanted to survive.  And he already had his self-appointed mission to protect the might-have-been Initiates.  That was a big enough task for anyone.

Oh, kriff it.  This was _such_ a stupid idea.  But it wasn't like he hadn't known that from the start.

"Here."  He jumped down into the pit and swiped the wristcom across the Wookiee's shackles.  They sprang open.  "You coming?  I've got to get out of here fast, before someone notices something's gone wrong."

He let out a disbelieving sound, but followed Han when he ducked out the door.  Han silently blessed Aika's friends as they hurried along the corridors, following the route he'd memorised earlier that allowed them to avoid every security feed in the building.  The Inquisitor was going to do his best to find him - there wasn't anything he could do to stop that - but he could, at the very least, make his job as hard as possible.

He waved the wristcom at the first exterior door he found.  It slid open silently, and Han felt a little tension leave him.  That was the hardest part of the job done with.  He turned to go around the building towards the garage, and the Wookiee put a hand on his arm, gesturing towards the gates.

"I've got a speeder that way," Han said.  "Look, I know it sounds stupid, but I broke in here for a reason and I'm not leaving without the goods.  And at least this way we won't have to walk back to town, right?"

The Wookiee grimaced, but followed when Han darted off to the garage.  The main door slid open with a quiet whir when he pressed the wristcom to the little electronic lock beside it.  It was still quiet inside; the only vehicle out of place was his, loaded up with boxes.

He settled in the front seat, eyeing the panel beneath the controls.  He'd assumed he'd have to hotwire it - there might be keys in that little office, but they might also be locked up somewhere else to protect them from light-fingered cadets - but maybe not now.  The wristcom had let him into everything so far, hadn't it?  He pressed it to the panel, holding his breath, and was rewarded with lights and a low chime as the electronics turned on.

"Force bless lazy officers," he muttered.  The Wookiee let out a rumbling laugh and settled beside him.  He glanced over the panel, reminding himself where all the controls were - it'd been a while since he'd flown a speeder rather than a spaceship - and blew out his breath as he placed a hand above the start button.

The speeder's motor wasn't loud, but Han still winced as he started it.  There might be people still awake in the dormitories - more officers lurking, waiting to catch cadets who'd decided to try to sneak into town -

But nothing interrupted them as he eased it out of the garage, along a few short paths, and over to the gate. It opened obediently when he swiped his wristcom across it, and he let out a shuddering breath.  He opened the throttle - gently at first, then further - and they swooped into the darkness.

He left the headlights off.  He hadn't noticed too many obstacles near the road on the way in, and he'd rather the Inquisitor didn't see them coming.  Of course, they'd have exactly the same problem if they heard the speeder.  Or, if they managed to avoid them on the road, there might be a tracker in the wristcom.  And if he dumped it, the Inquisitor might be able to track him with the Force once they'd found the com, since he'd been wearing it for a little while now.  He wrestled it off, one hand on the steering, and tossed it onto the front panel.  It glinted innocently in the dim moonlight.

He'd have to dump the armour too.  It probably hadn't occurred to anyone to put trackers in _that_ , but it'd be too conspicuous in town.  Everybody knew the cadets didn't get to leave their base alone, after all.  If he left it somewhere it could be found, then he'd have the same tracking problem, except worse because he'd had it on all day.  If it wasn't midnight he could just take off... but a town this small didn't keep their port open overnight unless they were ordered to, and he'd attract too much attention if he took off without getting permission from the authorities.  Especially right now.

Reminding himself that he'd known this was a bad idea felt a little redundant at this point.  He did it anyway.

"Look," he said, glancing at the Wookiee.  "I want to destroy the armour and com - I'll bet they've got some way to track us from them.  Slave planets usually do.  Do you know if there's anywhere around here that'd be able to do that?  Worst comes to worst, I could drop it all in the sewers or sneak it onto one of the Empire's ships, but I'd rather not take the risk."

The Wookiee nodded and began to gesture, then paused and let out the most exasperated-sounding growl Han had ever heard.  He bent to rummage in one of the speeder's storage compartments, coming up with a used flimsi and a stylus.  The note he passed to Han a few moments later was printed in large but neat Aurebesh, and read: _Metallurgy factory - turn right at edge of town - about 10 minutes' walk from spaceport_.

"Thanks.  Point me if I start going wrong, okay?"

Other than the low growl of the speeder's engine, the journey was silent for the next few minutes.  It made Han uncomfortably tense.  Inquisitors didn't give up their targets, ever.  Was he walking into a trap?  Was the Inquisitor waiting at the spaceport, ready to kill him - or, worse, take him and force him to talk, give up the name and location of every youngling he'd rescued, and then break him until he Fell -

The Wookiee slapped him on the shoulder, growling a warning as he pointed forwards with the other hand.  Han cut the engines, swerving them aside into the low brush at the side of the road, and listened.  The silence continued for three panicked heartbeats - and then he heard the quiet purr of a ship.  It seemed like nothing more than a dark shape cutting off the stars as it flew over them towards the base.

"Kriff," he whispered, chest tight.  "Thanks."

He nodded, turning to watch it go and growling something derogatory-sounding.

"Yeah, does seem kind of lazy to fly there, huh?  It's not that long a trip."  He turned the speeder back on, glancing uneasily over his shoulder, and guided it back to the road.  There wasn't any time for cautious driving now.

The journey out had taken a little over an hour in Aika's speeder, ducking off the road every time they heard someone coming.  The trip back seemed like it took half that - and maybe it had, speeding with no light other than a sliver of a crescent moon.  The boxes in the back of the speeder clinked warningly every time he took a corner too fast.  The Wookiee reached back every so often to steady them, eyes intent on the road.  Maybe _he_ should've been driving; he certainly seemed better suited to navigating here than Han was.

Finally he saw the town's lights ahead.  He swerved right at the outskirts and continued around until the Wookiee gestured him away from the buildings.  The factory was barely far away enough from the rest of the buildings to mask the fumes it put out; it was closed down for the night now, only the quiet rumble of machinery that never shut off to show it wasn't just another dormitory.

He pulled the speeder over as close to the main door as he could manage and began stripping.  The cool night air seemed to bite after being trapped in the armour all day, but he didn't care.  He'd much rather be cold than caught.

Armour piled on the speeder's front seat, he glanced over at the Wookiee.  He was positioned by the door, waving Han over.

"What is it?"

The Wookiee pointed at a small, high window and then bent at the knees as if boosting someone in the air.

"You want to... lift me up?  The window isn't locked?"

He shook his head.

"Ha.  You know, I'm starting to wonder if I'm not the only criminal here."

The Wookiee let out a low laugh and held his hands out.  Han sighed and stepped onto them.

"I hope you're right about this being open.  I'd feel pretty stupid standing up there, banging on a locked window."

As it happened, he was right; the window swung open with only a little pressure, and Han slid through and fell into the open space beyond.  It was dark and quiet, though he could see a distant flicker of light that suggested someone was on night-watchman duty.  He tiptoed over to the door and opened it.

"A little insecure, only locking it from one side - hey, what're you doing?"

The Wookiee, busily unloading the boxes from the speeder, glanced up.  His expression said _What do you think I'm doing?_ possibly better than he could have with words.

"I need that stuff -"

He pointed at the armour, the wristcom, and then the speeder, raising both brows with an exasperated _whuff_ of air.

"You're not wrong, they might have a way to trace the speeder, but I can't leave that stuff here.  I can't carry it all, I can't ask you to carry it, and even if I did it's way too much -"

He rolled his eyes and trotted past Han into the factory.  When he returned a moment later, he was towing a float pallet.

"Okay.  Point to you.  Kriff, it's even quieter than the speeder would've been... and I'll bet there's a bunch of them around the spaceport, too.  Probably a lot less conspicuous.  Well, except for the part where we're dragging it around at midnight...  Still.  Thanks."

He reached across and lifted the last box out of the speeder's back, setting it on the pallet.  Then he glanced at Han, opened his mouth, sighed, and picked up the flimsi again.

_Can you load the boxes - too heavy?_

"No, I can lift them.  It's just carrying them around at speed in the dark that would've been a problem.  Let me guess - you've been here before, so you know where the heavy speeder-destroying machinery is?"

He nodded, grinning broadly.

"Sure, go ahead.  I'll finish up here."

It didn't take long to load up the pallet.  Han almost wished he'd gone slower; waiting in the dark for his new friend to come out again, constantly expecting to be found by a patrol, was unbearable.  Every soft night sound was the Inquisitor's ship; the distant sound of talking was a patrol making its way through the town.  He pressed himself against the factory's wall and stared out into the darkness until his eyes ached.

A soft sound from the factory's open door made him jump, but it was the Wookiee who came out, not the night-watchman.  He nodded at Han.

"You're finished?  Good.  Let's get the hell out of here."

He let the Wookiee take the lead as they sprinted through the night.  Han wasn't sure if he'd been on this path before, but his eyes were certainly sharper, and more than once he dodged around a stone or pothole Han would've missed if he'd been here alone.  Not that he even would've known where to go.

The spaceport seemed to spring out of the ground suddenly - one moment nothing but more darkness ahead, and then the low grey shapes of ships.  The Wookiee slowed and glanced over at him, brows raised.

"Here, this way.  I'm near the back - seemed like a good idea to be further away from official eyes."

There was someone leaning against his ship.  He slowed nearly to a stop, heart hammering - kriff, had the Inquisitor thought to station someone at the only non-local ship in town? - before he saw the shape of lekku and realised it was Aika.  She glanced up as they neared, and her mouth dropped.

The Wookiee let out a surprised, pleased sound and bounded forwards, arms spread.

"Wait, you two know each other?"

Neither replied.  They'd dropped into a rapid-fire Shyriiwook conversation, Aika's lekku adding a counterpoint.  Han wondered, watching her, if she even realised what she was doing.  Or did her friend know how to translate Twi'leki movements?  It'd make a certain amount of sense, if they were both trapped here on a planet where speaking any language other than Galactic Basic was a good way to anger any passing Imperials.

She turned to him, eyes bright.  "Thank you.  We'd thought Chewbacca must have been executed, after they arrested him."

"Chewbacca?  Nice to be able to put a name to the face."  He nodded at him and glanced back at Aika.  "Do you two work together, or..."

"He's not a part of my network, no.  But we liaise with a lot of the Wookiees - they can go places we can't, sometimes.  My off-world contacts have been trying to trace Chewbacca's family in exchange for his help."

"Ah."  Han grimaced.  "I've heard the Empire put a lot of effort into separating families when they started this kind of large-scale slavery."

"It feels a little pointless tracing people sometimes.  It's not like we can do anything.  The only difference we make is letting people know where their families are being held, or if they're even alive at all.  But... knowing helps, sometimes."  She sighed, pushing at the sleeves of her heavy robe.  "Listen, I... would I be able to negotiate one last change to our agreement?"

Han narrowed his eyes.  "I've got the goods right here.  You're not about to tell me there's more hidden somewhere else, or -"

"No, no."  Her lekku swayed as she shook her head.  "No, this is... personal, I suppose you'd say.  Chewbacca can't stay here.  They'll execute him if they catch him, and there's nowhere to hide here.  Could you take him off-planet?  I don't think my contact will pay for _that_ , but I've got some credits saved up -"

"What?  No!"  Chewbacca's rumble of denial was louder than Han, but he was pretty sure she got the gist.  "Look - I'm not taking your money, not for that.  You've got enough bantha shit to deal with already.  And - well, I won't say I'd thought of that, because I wasn't really thinking when I let him out, but if I _had_ been I would've realised I'd have to take him with me.  That's - it's all fine.  Well, except for the part where I don't speak Shyriiwook, but I'm sure I can pick something up."

"Oh."  She blinked up at him.  "Well - if you're sure..."

"Absolutely."  He turned to Chewbacca.  "You'll have to let me know if you care where I drop you off.  Outer Rim's probably safest - less Imperials to wonder what you're doing wandering around on your own - though I guess you didn't end up in that sort of situation doing something safe."

He grinned broadly.

"Right."  Aika dragged her hands down her face.  "You've got everything, and you have the rendezvous point.  I should go - I can only sneak out for so long before someone starts wondering where I've gone, and I need to sleep.  You'll be all right loading everything up?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine.  Hopefully they won't want to do a customs inspection before I take off tomorrow - I think Chewbacca should be able to fit into one of the larger hidden compartments, but I don't think it'll be comfortable."

She glanced over at Chewbacca.  "Any messages you want me to carry?"

He shook his head, saying something in Shyriiwook.

"You too."  She pressed a hand to his arm, meeting his eyes, and then hurried away.

"Okay."  Han bit back a yawn.  It was well past midnight now; he was a little surprised he didn't see light on the horizon, all things considered.  "Help me load all this up, okay?  I've got a spare mattress and blankets you can use once we're done.  And I'll set up a perimeter warning so you'll know if you need to get out of sight in a hurry."

Chewbacca clapped him on the shoulder and nodded.  Then he picked up the first box and vanished into the ship, leaving Han to stare after him.

"I'll, uh.  Show you where to put that.  Here -"

The day's combination of stress and boredom seemed to have suddenly caught up with him, and he found himself stifling another yawn as he grabbed a crate and hurried inside.  But it wasn't hard to convince himself to load the crates aboard, not when he knew just how little time it'd take to pack them away and fall into bed.  He slid open a few compartments and showed Chewbacca how to slot them in so they wouldn't rattle around if someone banged on the walls; then he hauled out the spare mattress as Chewbacca found a likely place to dump the float-pallet.  When he returned, he showed him how to open up the hidey-hole in the wall, and then, finally, fell into his own bed.

 

He was jerked awake what felt like only moments later by the quiet beep of the perimeter alarm and a loud banging noise.  He stumbled out of his bed, stuck his head in Chewbacca's door - already out of sight, and he'd even pushed the mattress up against the wall so it looked unused - and jerked the door open.

"Yes?"

The portmaster blinked up at him.  "Inspection.  Let me in."

"Nobody told me there were gonna be inspections here."  He didn't move, body slung across the doorway and a scowl on his face.

He blew out a breath.  "Not my idea.  Someone up in Imperial Command's getting twitchy - some runaway slave, I don't know, they don't usually make this kind of fuss.  Look, you let me in, or I have to go get the higher-ups.  And they won't be nearly as friendly as me, if you know what I mean."

Han grimaced and swung away from the door.  "Come on, then.  But I want to get out of here.  I've finished my business, and sticking around seems like a bad plan if there's something like this going on."

"Sure, sure.  I'll get your paperwork sorted out just as soon as I'm done."  He poked his head into the cockpit.

"Come on, there isn't anyone who could get it started back at HQ?  If Imperial Command's that antsy, this escapee must be dangerous.  The sooner I leave, the better, I think."  He wandered over to his room and fished around in a drawer.  Somewhere... ah, there it was: his hidden stash of Cho-Mar.

"This isn't a big port, if you hadn't noticed.  We're all doing inspections already."  His hand opened for the credits Han passed over, and he smirked.  "Well, this all looks in order.  I'll go sign the paperwork.  You might as well do your pre-flights, I doubt it'll take long."

Han watched as he strolled across the spaceport, waiting until he'd gone more than halfway before he opened the compartment Chewbacca was hiding in.  "I'll be lifting off soon.  Want something to eat while we wait?"

Chewbacca settled in on the floor behind the cockpit with a pile of ration bars; Han had offered him the copilot's seat, but he didn't trust that someone wouldn't see him through the viewport, and Han supposed he had a point.  He chewed on another ration bar as he waited for the portmaster's signal.

When it came, it was almost anticlimactic.  No last-minute call to stop, or Imperial soldiers sprinting onto the airfield; just liftoff, slow at first and then speeding up as they rose into space, until Kashyyyk was nothing more than a greenish marble beneath them.

Chewbacca let out a little sound, more sigh than growl.  The expression on his face, when Han glanced over, was uncomfortably familiar.

Like lifting off from Coruscant, that first time.  Looking down and knowing he'd never become a Jedi now, no matter what happened to him in the future.

"You're not giving up," he said, putting a hand on Chewbacca's arm.  "There's no shame in leaving a fight you can't win.  And - Aika said you'd been looking for your family, right?  You'll have a better chance of finding them here than you would've there."

He nodded, but still looked melancholy.

"Yeah, probably the last thing you want right now is a stranger telling you how to feel.  Look, I'm going to set the autopilot to take me to Aika's rendezvous point, and then I'm going to clean up - these clothes were _not_ designed to be worn under Stormtrooper armour all day.  Take some time.  Eat more, you look like they'd been starving you.  I'll talk to you later, okay?"

He ducked out of the cockpit, leaving Chewbacca to watch as Kashyyyk faded away before they made the jump to hyperspace.  As much as he sympathised, he couldn't wait to be away.  As soon as they were out of realspace, he'd finally be able to relax the tight hold he had on his shields without worrying that the Inquisitor would realise where he'd gone.  They didn't normally feel this stifling - but then, he didn't normally think about just how cut off he was from the Force while he had them up, either.  Knowing he could hide from a Darksider up close... well, it was comforting, he had to admit that much, but it also made him very aware of how much of the Force's natural flow he missed doing it.  It'd be nice to just let himself feel.  Enjoy the Force in a way he didn't usually bother with.

And he wasn't going to come back to Kashyyyk any time soon if he could help it.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm glad to see you made it away safely."

By this point, Han was used enough to Qui-Gon that he didn't flinch.  He just sighed and turned in his chair, raising both brows.

"You're lucky Chewbacca's still in the bathroom, or I'd have to ignore you.  I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm weird enough already.  I don't want to start talking to people who aren't there in front of him."

"Why do you think I waited until now to say something?  I expect he'll be in there a while - it's a fairly impressive array of mats he has to cut out."  He paused, glancing at Han.  "You did a good thing, rescuing him."

"I did the only reasonable thing I could've done."

Qui-Gon sighed, but didn't argue.  "What exactly is it you've carried all this distance, anyway?"

He shrugged.  "How would I know?  Aika didn't tell me.  And I shouldn't go digging into it.  It's none of my business."

"You're not even a little curious?"  His eyes were strangely intent.

"No.  But you are, clearly."  It wasn't entirely a lie; he wasn't nearly as curious about what was in the crates as he was about Qui-Gon's reaction to them.  "You can't just... float through?"

"No, I cannot."  Seeing Han's expression, he sighed.  "Yes, technically I could, but I can't see what's inside.  It's too dark, and everything's packed together."

"I can't believe you tried to look at my cargo."  He pushed himself out of the pilot's chair.  "You know, my customers expect their private goods to stay private."

"Technically you're a criminal," Qui-Gon pointed out.  "Surely they wouldn't be surprised if you gave into temptation."

"They _should_ be surprised.  Because I'm a professional."  He knelt beside one of the compartments and pried it open.  The crate hadn't been sealed with any kind of lock, or anything that'd take more than a multitool to open.  Inside were...

"Bottles?"  Qui-Gon sounded as surprised as he was.

He hefted one - thick dark glass, a sloshing liquid inside, and a handmade label with an enormous amount of tiny Aurebesh print on it - and eyed it thoughtfully.  It was sealed with an old-fashioned cork, easy enough to pry out, and inside...

"Augh!"  He recoiled as an all-too-familiar scent reached his nose.

"What is it?"

"Wookiee liquor.  Who the hell wants to smuggle _this?_   It's the worst thing I've ever tasted!"

"Well... Wookiees, perhaps?"

"Yeah, because they have a ton of money to spend on black-market alcohol."  He shoved the cork back in.  "I'm not even sure this is safe for humanoids to drink.  And they're the biggest market for smugglers, these days."

"Hmm."  Qui-Gon bent to examine the bottle.  It certainly wasn't high-market stuff; Han was pretty sure the bottle itself had once held a more popular brand, something he'd seen in the cantina, and the label hadn't been pasted on straight.  And the contents of the label... he peered a little closer, following Qui-Gon's line of sight, and saw that it wasn't all Aurebesh.  There were letters from other alphabets scattered here and there.  The text itself was gibberish, occasional coherent words and phrases mixed in with total nonsense.

"Come on.  We should pack this up before Chewbacca finishes."

"If you want."  He stood, tucking his hands into his sleeves.  "You can't deny me the chance to admire good workmanship."

"Good - _what_ good workmanship?"

He gave Han a slightly despairing look, one that was probably pretty familiar to any Padawans he'd had before his death.  "They're not smuggling alcohol, Han.  They're smuggling labels."

"They're... _oh_."  He raised both brows.  "Have you been spying on the Rebellion, Qui-Gon?"

"That wouldn't be very good of me."  He looked a little sheepish.  "But I do get bored sometimes."

"Seriously?"

"I didn't know anything about this, though.  The labels just look a great deal like a code to me.  And what better way to hide information than on what looks like cheap alcohol, carried by a non-Rebellion smuggler?"

"You're probably right."  He set the bottle back in the crate and resealed it.  "This isn't the start of some, I don't know, attempt to recruit me for the Rebellion?"

"It's not as though I knew you were going to be carrying this particular cargo, Han."

"Come on, Qui-Gon."

"No, it's not.  You don't strike me as being trusting enough to want to work with a large group, especially one the Empire's hunting.  And if I _did_ want to recruit you for something... well, we've had that conversation before."

"Yeah."  Han heaved himself up, poking at the compartment with his foot to make sure it was closed properly.  "Can we just leave that argument for today?  I'm still exhausted."

"Certainly."  He followed behind Han as he made his way back to the cockpit.  "You're not planning on sleeping?"

"Nope.  I've got a better idea."  He settled himself in the chair, back straight and eyes closed, took a deep breath...

And opened himself to the Force.

**Author's Note:**

> *awkwardly waves sign with I ATEN'T DEAD written on it*  
> Sorry for the long wait between updates! It turns out that writing an outline with nothing more on it than "Han meets Chewbacca" is, uh. Not good if you want to actually have any idea what's happening next.  
> Conveniently, Solo-the-movie did an excellent job at jogging my brain, so I have a decent chunk of one of the later fics in this series written as well. Hopefully it won't take me as long to get the very next fic done.  
> (Also, if you haven't seen Solo, please be aware that I'm stealing characters and plot inspiration from it for the fic after next, because I'm unreasonably fond of Qi'ra and I want her to exist in this universe. It's going to be pretty heavily adapted, because a lot of what happened in Solo just plain doesn't fit in this universe, but it'll probably be recognisable.)


End file.
